


No Sky Like Home

by Engineer104



Series: Watered Plants and Other Stories [8]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, F/M, First Dates, First Kiss, Fluff, For the most part, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Post-Canon, especially wrt Lance's s8 ooc-ness, i take liberties, past allurance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 11:26:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17223161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Engineer104/pseuds/Engineer104
Summary: “One date,” Pidge muttered.—it was just one more insane thing they had in common.Lance raised an eyebrow. “What? I didn’t hear—”“One date,” she said louder, making sure to meet his blue eyes as they widened.“R-really? You’re changing your mindnow?”Pidge crossed her arms and pretended her heart didn’t hammer almost painfully against her ribs. “Is that a problem, Lance?”“Not at all.” He didn’t seem aware of their audience, his startlingly intent gaze only on her and enough to fill her with heat. “Tomorrow night we’ll head out from here? I have something planned.”“O-okay,” Pidge agreed. A grin tugged at her lips, and she refused to fight it. “We’ll see how it goes then.”“We will,” he said, and the dazzling smile blooming on his face made the anxious churning in her gut worthwhile.***Or, Pidge hesitates to say yes when Lance asks her on a date





	No Sky Like Home

**Author's Note:**

> ~~never mind the weird title and lame excerpt-for-summary~~
> 
> For the dialogue prompt: "I'm only here to establish an alibi."
> 
> SO this is, as is often the case, a tumblr prompt fill gone wrong (though less wrong than they sometimes do), but unlike others of its length i want it to stand alone rather than include it in my collection, so i'm posting it here at the same time as i am on tumblr
> 
> BUT ANYWAY: as far as canon compliance is concerned, i've discarded farmer!Lance and like...overlooked his wonky season eight characterization, because i don't know who that guy was but it wasn't Lance ~~and he wasn't worthy of Allura OR Pidge~~
> 
> in any case, enjoy!! <3

Pidge hesitated to say yes.

“I don’t think that’s…a good idea, Lance.” She shuffled the pages in her lab notebook just for something to do with her hands, avoiding Lance’s gaze in favor of staring at one of the impeccably shiny buttons on his uniform jacket.

“Oh, that’s…okay, Pidge.” Lance scratched his ear and smiled, somehow looking both like the overconfident boy she met years ago and like the more thoughtful man he’d become. He stuffed his hands into his trouser pockets, further completing the picture of rakish yet upstanding Garrison officer, and wondered, “Can I ask why?”

Pidge shifted her feet and bit her lip. “Well, we work together,” she said, “so I don’t think it would be appropriate.”

It was a bullshit excuse - her own parents’ marriage would contradict her - and she knew it, but he didn’t call her out on it.

But his eyebrow quirked, and the slightest sigh that escaped him made something guilty twist in her gut. “I guess that’s for the best then,” he said.

Before he could walk past her with a muttered goodbye, Pidge grabbed his wrist and tugged him back. “Wait, Lance,” she said, trying to smile when his eyes flicked up to her face, “we’re still…friends, right?”

“Obviously,” he said with a slight grin of his own, but his gaze fell to her fingers wrapped around his wrist.

“Then I’ll see you for lunch?” Pidge wondered hopefully - anything to calm the anxious pounding of her heart.

Lance gently pulled his wrist from her grip and ran his fingers through his hair. “Not today,” he said. “I have a lot of exams to grade. See you later, Pidge.” He flashed her one last smile and pushed his way out of her lab.

She knew it was an excuse but didn’t call him out. Instead she watched the door swing shut behind him with a heaviness in her heart.

* * *

There were few occasions Pidge regretted discussing her life with Matt, and this was turning into one of them.

“I never thought I’d see the day where my genius sister could be such a _dumbass_.”

Pidge locked her eyes on the chessboard - she vowed to crush him for his words - and grumbled, “ _I_ thought you’d be more sympathetic.”

“Because you turned down a guy you’ve liked for _years_?” Matt snorted and nudged a pawn forward two spaces. “I have no sympathy for you.”

She scowled as she contemplated her next move. “You make it sound so easy.”

“Unless I miss my guess,” Matt mused with a smirk, “you _wanted_ to say yes.”

Pidge wondered if she imagined the crack in the wooden rook she pinched between her fingers. She slid it across the board, diligently avoiding his sharp gaze, and said, “What I want doesn’t matter.”

“Why do you think that?” Matt asked, sounding more curious than judgmental. He raised an eyebrow and started ticking off points with his fingers, “You’ve been friends for a long time and lived through a lot of the same messed up stuff; you live on the same _planet_ ; you freed a cow together; you already see each other often even outside work—”

Why did _that_ reminder make heat shoot to Pidge’s face?

“—and I know for a fact you think he looks good in that uniform coat.” Matt waggled his eyebrows at her, his pointed grin returning. “Hey, if I wasn’t married, I’d want to—ow!”

A laugh burst from her while Matt shot her a glare, rubbing his shin where her foot connected with it. But when he straightened, tapping his chin as he planned his next move, he said, “If you tell me you have no feelings for him whatsoever and only see him as a friend, then I’ll drop it.”

Pidge, seeing a way out though even the lie unspoken left a bad taste in her mouth, said, “I—”

“ _Liar_ ,” Matt said, brandishing his queen at her. “Why not go on just one date with him? See what happens from there.”

She sighed, her chest tight and her fingers curling into fists in her lap. “I can’t, Matt. He already broke my heart once - without meaning to,” she hurriedly added before he could comment beyond his eyebrows climbing his forehead. “I won’t let him do that again.” She blinked at the chessboard, momentarily confused by the layout, and wondered, “Is it my move?”

Matt returned his queen to her place. “It is not,” he said, “but don’t change the subject.”

Pidge crossed her arms and scowled. “I was not,” she protested, well-aware she sounded petulant. “I’m just trying to keep up with—”

“Check,” he announced as he moved his knight into place, his smug grin showing teeth. “But anyway, the thing that sucks about love is that you’ll risk that—”

“It’s not a worthwhile risk considering the evidence,” Pidge retorted. She examined the board, determined to snatch her victory from the jaws of defeat, and grinned. His knight stood in a position where her queen could easily capture it.

“Did you consider _all_ the evidence?” Matt wondered with a skeptical frown. “Sure, the past is compelling, but what about the fact that _he asked you out_?”

Pidge’s eyelid twitched, a traitorous flutter in her chest at the memory, but she mumbled, “Guess who he asked out first.”

“Recently?” He crossed his arms on the table, leaning towards her, and after she didn’t respond he guessed, “Princess Allura?” When she nodded, he laughed and said, “Pidge, that was _years_ ago, so—”

“It feels like…I don’t know.” She bit her lip, hating that unpleasant turning of her stomach, and said, “I don’t really know how to explain it.”

“ _Or_ you’re just overthinking things, as usual,” Matt pointed out with a sigh. “Tell me what he acted like when he asked.”

Pidge tapped the tip of a bishop, thinking back. “He blushed and stammered; it was…cute.” A smile pushed at her lips, defying her will, but it fell as soon as she recalled how _crestfallen_ he was when she refused.

Her forehead fell to the table, chess pieces rattling, and she groaned. “I didn’t want to hurt him, but it’s just hard.”

“What is, Pidge?”

She straightened and propped her elbow on the table, flicking one of Matt’s captured bishops until it fell over. “It’s hard to imagine he’d actually like me after someone like Allura.”

She wasted so much time trying to squash feelings that did her no good. Some distance helped, but then he started back at the Garrison, going so far as to finish up an _actual_ piloting certification to show Commander Iverson and _her_ he was serious about returning to duty and joining on as a Defender, and after a few too many late nights working - and goofing off or, once, reminiscing until they held each other and cried - together on a design for spacecraft he would eventually pilot, she was just as pathetically in love with him as she was at sixteen.

(The way his shoulders looked in that damned uniform jacket didn’t hurt either.)

Matt rolled his eyes, looking utterly unimpressed with her excuses. “Well, clearly _he_ has no problem imagining it,” he said, “which is why - aside from the fact that you’re into him and deserve to be happy with someone that likes you as much as you like him - you should’ve said yes.”

“I’m perfectly happy with us being friends,” Pidge retorted despite the guilty twist in her stomach. “Why should we shake things up if what we have is fine?”

Matt raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you a scientist, Pidge? Fossil fuels are fine, so forget renewable energy. We can treat cancer, so why bother curing it? Oh, and with ships, who needs—”

“All right, I get it!” She gripped the edge of the table, her face warm and heart pounding with agitation, and mumbled, “It’s just _different_ with him, okay?” And, just to tear her mind away from the subject at hand, she picked up her queen and took Matt’s knight that put her king in check. “Take that, by the way.”

“Hey!” Matt glared at her, tapping his chin and contemplating the board for a few seconds before moving his surviving bishop.

A few moves later, Pidge grinned as she announced, “Check mate.”

“That was a gutsy move,” he said, frowning down at her threatening queen.

She crossed her arms. “Payback for last time.”

“It goes to prove something, doesn’t it?” Matt said, his mouth curving into a slight smirk.

“What?” Pidge asked, instantly wary.

“If you get too worried about what could go wrong, you might miss a chance to do something great.”

Pidge’s jaw dropped before she upended the board, scattering chess pieces over the table and floor. “Hey, using Dad’s words against me is cheating!”

Matt laughed. “I don’t think so,” he said, “and you just made a mess for yourself.” He stood and added, “Make sure you count all the pieces this time; we don’t want a repeat of last time when a knight clogged the vacuum.”

Pidge gnashed her teeth as she watched him leave and wondered if older brothers ever stopped being infuriating.

* * *

Lunch proved lonely with Lance avoiding Pidge, despite the presence of other coworkers. She had to force her laughter at Nadia’s jokes and only half-listened to Ryan reluctantly recount the last disastrous blind date James set him up on.

With an invisible hand squeezing her heart so tightly and with memories of her last innocuous interaction with Lance - a late dinner at the Denny’s in Plaht City that _somehow_ still stood after a full-scale alien invasion - playing in her head, she didn’t properly tune into the conversation until someone spoke her name.

Nadia waved her hand in front of Pidge’s face. “Anyone there? Or did someone flip your power switch without us noticing?”

“Ha ha,” Pidge said without bothering to conceal her irritation. She tore at the bread on her peanut butter sandwich, face warming under their scrutiny. “You can carry on talking about Ryan’s hopeless love life without me.”

“Well, why don’t we talk about yours instead?” Nadia said brightly, her teeth flashing menacingly. “So…where’s your loverboy today?”

Pidge stared at her; it’d been a _long_ time since she heard anyone call Lance a _loverboy_ , and as far as she knew - and ascertained thanks to all the scientific inaccuracies she could _not_ have anyone from the Garrison hearing her spout - no version of The Voltron Show ever made it to Earth. “My…what?” she said, deciding it would be best to play dumb.

“I think she means Lance,” Ina supplied helpfully.

“Lance told me he was eating lunch with Veronica today,” James offered with a shrug. “He said it was her birthday?”

Pidge’s stomach turned with nausea, what little appetite she had diminishing. “Veronica’s birthday was three months ago,” she said.

“Why would he lie?” Ryan wondered. To her, he didn’t look particularly interested in an answer, but she guessed he preferred to deflect the attention off himself and onto her.

Traitor.

“I don’t know,” Pidge lied, wincing at the waver in her words. Then, before any of them could comment on it, she shoved her half-eaten sandwich back into its bag and packed up her lunch. “I have an experiment to prepare ahead of my next class.”

“Do you want—”

“No, thank you, Ina,” she said. She forced a smile onto her face as she stood before fleeing the mess.

Pidge had no real destination in mind. She _could_ head to her lab, but it would be all too easy for Matt - he had an uncanny ability for detecting Garrison gossip before it really turned into indistinct rumor - to find her there. Instead she wandered the halls of the main building, barely paying anyone she passed - even the odd cadets that greeted her - any attention.

Lance going so far as to avoid her during lunch once hurt enough, but for almost a whole week was _insufferable_.

Maybe that was why she found herself at the entrance to one of the smaller hangars, where she knew he’d be with his next flight class.

He stood at the head of a small group of adolescent Defender cadets - both human and alien - gesturing wildly at a prototype craft.

Pidge paused for a moment just watching him with his students. He’d left the top button of his uniform jacket undone, a hint of white shirt collar peeking out, and his hair stood on end as if he’d frequently run his fingers through it. Her breath caught picturing it - and picturing her own fingers threading through the strands and feeling for herself how soft they were.

Lance lectured animatedly and as if the craft was his co-teacher, supervising the cadets as they took turns climbing into the cockpit which…was technically not allowed.

And that was _her_ prototype, so she decided to put a stop to it.

She marched through the line of waiting students with her heart racing, ignoring Lance’s widening, almost panicked eyes, and demanded, “What are you doing, Lance?”

“Uh…showing my students the inside of one of the craft they’ll one day fly,” he replied, the confident grin he flashed her - how was it fair that it filled her chest with warmth and set her almost at ease? - belying the embarrassed flush in his cheeks.

“They won’t fly this one,” Pidge reminded him with a glare. “It’s just a prototype; only a test pilot can fly it.”

“Lucky I’m in the running to be one of those, right?”

“What does that have to do with your cadets?” she wondered, raising a skeptical eyebrow. She shifted in place, suddenly self-conscious that they spoke - argued, really - in the view of about fifteen junior cadets, but made sure to meet his gaze.

Lance didn’t falter. “Isn’t it important they at least understand the process and technology that goes into building the Defenders’ spacecraft?”

“It—” Pidge cut herself off with a grimace, resenting the logic in his argument; damn him, he spent too much time around her.

And Lance, judging by the smirk curling his lips, _knew_ he’d won.

Pidge wasn’t sure if she wanted to kiss or _smack_ it off. “Lance,” she said, her tone low in warning, “it’s still against the rules.”

He crossed his arms and frowned, looking annoyed for the first time during this confrontation. “You’re one to talk,” he retorted. “Did you forget how we met?”

Pidge’s jaw dropped, heat flooding her face as every single cadet’s gaze snapped to her. “Th-that’s not—how is that relevant?” she stuttered.

Lance shrugged, looking unbothered except for the way he tugged at the hem of his jacket. “Kind of hypocritical of you then, wouldn’t you say, Pidge?”

Her eyes narrowed, her heart jumping into her throat as she cycled through every possible response because he was _right_. They’d both been rule-breakers - though as far as she knew he’d never actually broken the law until they freed Shiro - so really—

“One date,” Pidge muttered.

—it was just one more insane thing they had in common.

Lance raised an eyebrow. “What? I didn’t hear—”

“One date,” she said louder, making sure to meet his blue eyes as they widened.

“R-really? You’re changing your mind _now_?”

Pidge crossed her arms and pretended her heart didn’t hammer almost painfully against her ribs. “Is that a problem, Lance?”

“Not at all.” He didn’t seem aware of their audience, his startlingly intent gaze only on her and enough to fill her with heat. “Tomorrow night we’ll head out from here? I have something planned.”

“O-okay,” Pidge agreed. A grin tugged at her lips, and she refused to fight it. “We’ll see how it goes then.”

“We will,” he said, and the dazzling smile blooming on his face made the anxious churning in her gut worthwhile.

* * *

Pidge barely made it to her next class in time before the bell.

Naturally, the news that their coding teacher had a date with their flight instructor beat her.

(She already knew to blame Matt.)

* * *

Pidge refused to agonize over what to wear (not like she did with any of the handful of other dates - which ranged in quality from decent to disastrous - Matt or Nadia set her up on), mostly because Lance barged into her lab before their work day even ended.

She’d scarcely shut down her active equipment, reaching to start unbuttoning her lab coat, when her door opened so fast it bounced off the doorstop with a bang.

Pidge spun around, heart jumping into her throat and hand reaching for the bayard she kept hidden under the sink - she worked in a rather _sensitive_ environment - before she registered Lance standing in the doorway. “What the quiznak, Lance?” she demanded. “You scared me!”

“Sorry!” He raised his hands, a sheepish smile on his face, and said, “I just wanted to make sure you weren’t going to get too absorbed by a project and forget all about our date.”

Her eyes narrowed, unimpressed with his excuse, but she hung up her lab coat and grabbed her bag before following him into the hallway. “So what are we doing tonight?” she wondered, pretending to focus on locking up her lab rather than on the anxious flutter in her chest.

(She had to surreptitiously wipe her sweaty hand on her pants when the security scanner failed to recognize her prints.)

Lance flashed her a grin that, unless she missed her guess, held an edge of nervousness. “It’s a surprise,” he said, “but I think you’ll like it.”

“The arcade?” Pidge guessed when the alarm panel’s red indicator light finally activated.

“Nope,” Lance said. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and nodded for her to follow.

They passed other Garrison scientists - some also leaving after a day of work and others taking a break before returning to pressing assignments - on their way out. Even her mother spotted them - and oh, quiznak, she never told her parents so they probably learned thanks to the Garrison’s irritatingly efficient rumor mill - on her way to the greenhouses, her eyes widening in surprise before she shot them a wink and said, “Don’t be out too late.”

Pidge made sure her mother was out of sight when she scowled and grumbled, “I’m going to kill Matt.”

Lance laughed, his cheeks dark with embarrassment when she dared a glance at him, and joked, “Then you’d be wasting all your hard lawbreaking as a cadet.”

Pidge bit her lip, fighting a grudging smile.

They entered the officer parking lot, passing Pidge’s small car and heading for—

“This isn’t your car,” she said, her eyes popping at the sight of the red hoverbike parked in his spot.

“It’s not,” he admitted, shrugging. “Keith gave it to me for safekeeping.”

“And he’s letting you take it for a spin?” Pidge raised an eyebrow at him, skeptical. “Or is this another Lion swapping scenario?”

Lance flushed, avoiding her eyes and rubbing the back of his neck, and grumbled, “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him…”

“Better not crash then,” she joked, before sobering and adding, “You’d _better_ not crash!”

Lance chuckled and nudged her in the side with his elbow. “Please, Pidge. If I can fly one of your crazy prototypes, I can drive Keith’s trashy hoverbike.”

“My prototypes are _not_ crazy,” Pidge retorted.

“The last one had too much thrust,” Lance complained. “It felt like flying the Red Lion again!”

“And that’s a…bad thing?”

Lance’s jaw flapped uselessly under her scrutiny before he exhaled in a huff and said, “It’s fun but I also don’t want to crash while I’m still getting a hang of how to handle it. We can’t all be naturals.”

_Like Keith,_ he left unspoken…or so she guessed. She fidgeted with the strap on her bag, suddenly uncomfortable with the direction the conversation took - did that old wound still bother Lance? - until he added, “Unlike Keith, I brought helmets.”

Pidge slid the bulky helmet he offered her onto her head, her trembling fingers fumbling with the straps until he took pity on her and secured it for her. From this close, she could see her reflection in his eyes and wondered that, if not for the helmet, if his breath would fall against her forehead.

But with those blue marks in such easy view…

Lance smirked, patting her helmeted head, and said, “Your genius brain is now safe and sound.”

“I’ve known you for years,” Pidge said, glancing past him at the hoverbike, “so who exactly are you trying to impress with that?”

“Huh?” Lance stepped away from her - she wished she had the courage to tug him back - and put on his own helmet. “Maybe I want to impress you anyway.”

The admission made her breath catch - he _really_ needed to stop doing that before she forgot why she was so hesitant! - but she said, “There are better ways to do that than with driving into the sunset on a hoverbike.”

Lance shrugged. “Well, I can’t recite the digits of pi or solve complicated quantum physics equations—”

“If you could, it wouldn’t impress me because I already know plenty of people who _can_.”

Lance’s lips parted - in surprise, she thought - before he cleared his throat and confessed, “The hoverbike’s better for going into the desert since the roads haven’t been fixed since the invasion.”

Pidge smirked. “The desert, you say? Are we off to find the Blue Lion’s cave?”

Lance laughed as he climbed onto the hoverbike, patting the spot behind him. “You’ll see.”

Pidge raised an eyebrow - so that was one more possible destination eliminated - but clambered on behind him. She considered where to place her hands as he turned on the engine and the boosters kicked into gear before deciding against overthinking every little thing and choosing to be as tactile with him as she wanted.

It wasn’t even that _unusual_ with them, though thanks to the idea that they were explicitly on a _date_ , the thought of wrapping her arms around his waist even just to hold onto him brought heat rushing to her face like she was a silly schoolgirl with a crush.

(Which…was never far removed from reality where Lance was concerned.)

But Pidge did it anyway, her arms secure and her cheek - or her helmet, really - pressed against his back.

“Hold tight,” Lance warned her. “I’m still not sure I can drive this thing.”

“We rode a cow to escape a Galra mall cop,” Pidge reminded him despite her own apprehension. “We’ll be—”

He revved the engine and zipped out of the parking lot, the wind whipping at her loose clothes and stinging her cheeks. Her eyes pinched shut against the dust stirred up by their private tempest.

Hoverbikes handled smoother than classic motorcycles but required more control from their operators. And despite its age, Keith’s hoverbike was in good repair thanks to a loving owner.

And Lance proved adept at handling it…for the most part.

Her heart skipped a beat when he banked sharply onto a road with a gated entrance branching from the main highway, ignoring the sign that read, _Government Property, No Trespassing_. Her arms tightened around him - she trusted him with her life but wasn’t sure she wanted him to test that trust on their first date - as the boosters stuttered, adjusting to the sudden change in speed as Lance navigated the dilapidated road.

At the lower speed, Pidge joked, “Are you taking me to Area Fifty-One?”

She felt more than heard Lance’s laughter, his back rumbling against her chest and bringing a smile to her own face. “We literally fought an intergalactic war against aliens, so what’s so special about _Area Fifty-One_?”

“Plus we’re kind of in the wrong state for that,” Pidge pointed out. “How far are we heading out anyway?”

It darkened the longer they traveled, the sun dipping below the horizon and painting the sky in streaks of red and pink. The full moon rose opposite, and between its intense white light and the hoverbike’s headlamp, the desert was still navigable.

Lance drove them up a winding dirt path, a canyon below them hidden in shadow. At the sharp change in incline, a flicker of familiarity hit Pidge, but she bit her lip and kept it to herself, too wary of being wrong - and crushingly disappointed - to speak her hope aloud.

The terrain flattened out, and a silhouetted structure rose ahead of them at the edge of the cliff overlooking the canyon and a blanket of stars. The sight of the telltale dome made Pidge’s breath catch, and her grip on Lance tightened even as he slowed the hoverbike to a stop.

“Well,” Lance said, deactivating the boosters and shutting off the hoverbike’s engine, “we’re here.”

“The old observatory?” Pidge slid off the hoverbike, fumbling with the straps securing her helmet before pushing it off and setting it on her seat. Her feet moved almost against her will, drifting over uneven and stony ground towards the building she spent many a midnight staring into the universe through the massive telescope with her father. It was one of the Galaxy Garrison’s first stations, converted into a museum a few years before Matt was born.

“So…?” She jumped, startled from her stunned reverie, when Lance’s hand found hers. “Did I mess up?” he wondered, hesitant.

Pidge shook her head, desperate to allay his uncertainty, but dammit that lump in her throat shouldn’t be there while she was on a date with _him_. “N-no, it’s…I just haven’t been back here since before the Kerberos mission launch.”

Lance chuckled, and it brought a grin to her face when he squeezed her fingers. “Guess that’s another thing we have in common, huh?”

“You’ve been here before too?” Pidge turned to him, her eyes wide.

“Just a couple times,” he said. “First time was when my whole family visited Veronica while she was a cadet, and the second time was the field trip in flight school.”

“Oh, I…forgot you would’ve gone on that.” She tugged on the hem of her dusty uniform jacket, smiling sheepishly. “I guess I missed that.”

Lance rolled his eyes. “Guess you did.” He turned back to the hoverbike and rifled through one of the saddlebags hanging off the side before extracting a flashlight. “Care to explore with me and check out what’s changed?”

Pidge grinned. “Gladly.”

She followed him to the observatory, ducking below the gleaming yellow caution tape blocking the main entrance. Lance flicked on the flashlight, angling it around to illuminate the high domed ceiling’s design - a mural of the night sky, the zodiac along the bottom of the hemisphere, with a model of their own solar system dangling from the center.

“Venus is missing,” Lance observed in a low voice that nevertheless echoed through the cavernous room.

Pidge led him deeper into the observatory, past crumbling and dusty exhibits depicting the formation of stars in nebulae and their deaths as supernovas, towards the planetarium. She climbed the stairs up towards the back room while Lance shined the beam on the switches and dials that controlled the lights and rotating ceiling.

“There’s no power, Pidge,” he pointed out unhelpfully.

“I know,” she said, worrying her lip between her teeth. “I lost count of the number of shows I watched here…”

They returned to the main hall of exhibits with velvet ropes partitioning them from the path, only…all the old spacecraft - all the rovers and modules - that were once on display no longer stood there, nothing left behind but the plaques explaining what role they played in the history of space travel and exploration.

“Where is everything?” Lance wondered. He jerked the flashlight around, its beam flickering rapidly enough that Pidge’s head spun if she tried to follow it too closely, as if that would conjure up everything missing.

“I don’t know,” Pidge admitted, “but I think I can guess.”

“What?”

“I wonder if it was all salvaged for parts during the invasion,” she mused while her gut twisted with guilt…and not a little bit of remorse that she got so caught up in rebuilding Earth and the Defenders project that she never returned here before now.

She hated seeing something she loved so much reduced to so _little_.

She turned to head back to the entrance, but Lance’s hand on her shoulder gave her pause.

“Don’t you want to see if the telescope is still there?” he wondered.

“I doubt it will be,” she said, shaking her head. “Let’s just go. I’m…guessing you had something else planned?”

“Yeah.” Lance fell into step beside her, but the ensuing silence weighed heavy until they emerged from the decrepit observatory and he said, “I’m sorry, Pidge. I didn’t know it would be like…that.”

“I know,” she said. “I…” She smiled, more for his benefit than for hers because what he did was _thoughtful_ and touched her no matter how seeing it like this pained her, and said, “I probably should’ve expected it. Nothing’s really the same from when we left, right?”

“Maybe not, but peanut butter hasn’t changed.”

Pidge raised an eyebrow at him, confused by the change in subject, as he led her back to the hoverbike. “What does that have to do with anything?”

Lance grinned, pulling a folded blanket and a lunch box from a saddlebag and heading down a path. She followed until they paused near the edge of the cliff overlooking the shadowed canyon with the observatory behind them.

She helped Lance spread the blanket and sat beside him while he dug through the lunch box and pulled out a few foil-wrapped sandwiches. “Sorry about the simple dinner,” he said, passing her one to the embarrassing chorus of her rumbling belly. “I actually took Allura to meet my family on our first, but you already know them and I…wanted our date to be something special.”

Pidge gripped her half-unwrapped sandwich a little tighter, shoulders tensing involuntarily at the mention. She avoided looking too closely at his face lest she see that irresistible reminder and instead commented, “It didn’t have to be.” She smiled, an inexplicable warmth in her chest staving off the chill of a desert evening in autumn. “I just like spending time with you.”

“You do?” Lance glanced at her, his eyes wide and…why did he have to look so surprised by that?

“Obviously,” Pidge said. “I’m on a date with you, so I must, right?”

“Then…why did you say no at first?”

Pidge’s eyes shot open, and she took a huge bite out of her sandwich - peanut butter and blackberry jelly, her favorite - in lieu of thinking of something to say. After swallowing, she sipped from the juice box Lance handed her before saying, “C-can I tell you why I changed my mind instead?”

He met her eyes, a spark of eagerness in his gaze and his sandwich lying abandoned on the blanket. “Yeah?”

Pidge leaned towards him and whispered conspiratorially, “I’m only here to establish an alibi.”

Lance blinked at her once, twice, three times before she couldn’t fight her laughter anymore. She doubled over, clutching at her stomach while giggles burst from her, only laughing harder when Lance rolled his eyes and mumbled, “Ha ha, Pidge…though I wouldn’t put it past you.”

Eventually, he cracked a smile, and her laughter abated, leaving her breathless with ribs pleasantly sore and a single tear at the corner of her eye. She wiped it away and rested a hand on Lance’s arm before admitting, “I think an alibi is useless when you and I were just trespassing on closed off property.”

“So…what are you getting at?”

Pidge inhaled, her eyes slipping shut as she toyed with one of the buttons on her uniform jacket. “I…like you, Lance,” she confessed while her stomach twisted into miserable knots. “When you asked me out it felt like a pipe dream come true since I never thought you’d look twice at me after…” She trailed off, cracking her eyes open to see Lance openly gaping at her.

“But you said no first,” he said, clearing his throat.

Pidge nodded. “And I don’t regret changing my mind.” _Yet._

Lance smiled and took her hand, interlacing their fingers. It made something in her chest unravel, a few more threads of anxiety loosened. “Does this mean you’re having fun with me?”

Pidge bit her lip - and bit back the ironic joke that rose to her mind. “With you? Easily aside from the literal and figurative bumps, but I’d have fun with you at the arcade like we always do too.”

“Then as long as we’re having fun, what’s wrong with doing something special?” Lance demanded.

Pidge stared past him, up at the night sky, before reaching over and flicking off the flashlight. “Well, for one it’s not a good night for stargazing.” She pointed at the moon overhead bathing them in a white light. “We should’ve done this during a new moon, not while there’s a full moon out.”

Lance frowned at her. “You just said you like spending time with me.”

“And? You also left the flashlight on, which is just more light pollution.”

“So why does it matter if the moon is full or not?” Lance wondered.

“So we can properly do one of the activities we came here for?” Pidge suggested, quirking an eyebrow at him. “We _are_ partly here to stargaze, right?” When Lance only stared at her, his eyes wide and incredulous, heat rushed to her face and she stammered, “W-what? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Lance’s gaze softened, a fond smile gracing his face and doing something to her insides before he laughed. “You’re unbelievable, Pidge.”

“All the amazing things we’ve seen, and _I_ _’m_ unbelievable?” Pidge scoffed, trying to deflect though that awful, doting look he was giving her made it impossible.

“Well,” Lance said, leaning back until he lay down and gazed up, “all that amazing stuff, and there’s still nothing like the night sky from Earth.”

“The moon is a filthy light polluter,” Pidge mumbled before she _quit_ overthinking and lay down beside him. But she kept some distance between them though his heat was a tantalizing presence that almost lured her closer.

The silence held for a little while, broken only by Pidge tracing old, familiar constellations and Lance pointing out “new” ones.

“That’s the Paladin,” he said, his hand raised and fingertip drawing two trapezoids in the sky.

“That’s Orion, you goofball,” Pidge said, rolling her eyes.

“No, it’s not,” Lance said. His elbow dug into her arm. “I’m renaming it right now; the ancient Greeks aren’t here to say I can’t.”

Pidge chuckled, but when a breeze blew over them, stirring up the desert shrubs and making her shiver, she gave into temptation and scooted closer to him and the warmth he emanated.

“Then that over there is Rover,” she said, shaping a triangle between three bright stars.

Lance traced a jagged line from five stars and offered, “And that’s the Blade.”

“And there’s the Juniberry.” Pidge pointed at a cluster of stars that vaguely resembled a flower. “And beside it is…the Princess.”

(Well, it was really Andromeda, but in the myth she was a princess sacrificed for her people too - but unlike _their_ princess, she survived.)

“Lance,” Pidge said, cutting into their constellation hunting. She swallowed, her mouth dry and clumsy to shape the words, but she managed to say, “I told you why I changed my mind, but…I should tell you why I said no first.”

Lance sat up, for which she was grateful; she wasn’t sure she could speak to him about something so painful while in a more…intimate position. She mirrored him, her legs crossed and her hands in her lap, and inhaled to calm her pounding heart.

“Pidge?” he prompted when the silence grew too long, too thick.

Well, time to pour her heart out and hope it wouldn’t bite her in the ass.

“I’ve had some kind of…feelings for you for a while,” she explained, careful to meet his eyes despite their proximity to the marking someone else - one of her best friends - left on his face. “I think I’ve liked you - on and off sometimes - almost as long as I’ve known you.” She wrung the hem of her jacket, her embarrassment keeping her warm against the cold judging by her sweaty armpits.

Lance’s eyes widened. “I didn’t know that, Pidge. I’m sorry; maybe if I had—”

She shook her head, swallowing around an irritating lump in her throat, and wondered, “Would it have changed anything if I told you? Maybe I’m not now, but I always would’ve been your second choice, and Allura was my friend too and I miss her _so_ much but I can’t help thinking that you’ll always be comparing me to—”

Lance’s warm hands framing her face cut her off, her eyes flying wide as she stared up at him. “You can’t compare, Pidge.”

Her chest tightened, face crumpling against her will and so _quickly_. “Th-that’s what I—”

“You’re a completely different person,” Lance reminded her. The tip of his thumb slid under her eye, brushing away a tear she hadn’t realized she shed, before he let go.

When he pulled away, Pidge released a breath, but she couldn’t be relieved yet. “What do you mean?” she wondered.

“I loved her and I miss her too,” Lance explained with a soft smile, “but it’s still…different with you, Pidge.” His intent gaze fell on her, and for once Pidge cared not a whit for the blue markings on his cheeks; they were a part of him as much as his eyes or a quiznaking belly button. “Being with you is as easy as breathing…or, well, sometimes easier and sometimes harder.”

Pidge smiled unwittingly. “I guess it averages out then.”

Lance chuckled. “You would see it like that, but…” His hand found hers again, and this time she didn’t hesitate to intertwine their fingers. “I don’t just want one date with you, Pidge.”

Her breath caught but she said, “I…know that now, but are you sure?” A sigh escaped her, her fingers tightening around his, and she admitted, “I don’t want to let you hurt me again.”

“I don’t want that either,” he said. “I want…can I tell you what I want?” When Pidge nodded, finding it difficult to speak at the moment, he continued, “I want a lot of dates with you, and a lot of that time in between, and to”—his hand squeezed hers—”hold your hand whenever I want…whenever you’ll let me.”

“O-oh,” Pidge said, because it was all she could with it so hard to breathe.

“And I still want to do all the stuff we do as friends but…I want more with you, like you visiting the farm and Kaltenecker with me and spending holidays with each other’s families and us going to team reunions together.” He smiled, something a touch hopeful and a touch apprehensive in it. “I want that, if you want it too.”

“Lance, I…” Pidge exhaled in a huff, trying to regain some level of _words_ with her skin so warm and her heart racing. “I want that,” she muttered, hoping to speak it into existence. “I want all of that with you.”

Lance’s grin widened, something so broad she wondered if his cheeks would be sore later, but it lightened her chest to see it…especially from so close.

His hand cupped her cheek, breath warm on her face as he all but whispered, “Can I—”

“Yeah,” she said, somehow already breathless.

Lance kissed her softly, tilting her head back to capture her lips with his, while her hands gripped at the front of his jacket. Her heart hammered against her ribcage, head spinning with incredulity that _this_ could happen, as his fingers slid into her hair and pulled her closer.

A sigh escaped Pidge when his nose brushed hers, and she pulled back, her eyes fluttering open to meet his - a vivid blue even illuminated only by the full moon and a sky scattered with stars - and her breath short. A smile split her face as his forehead rested against hers, his own shallow breaths blooming across her skin.

“So, Katie…does this mean I can take you on a second date?” Lance asked.

Pidge laughed - as stunned as she was pleased when he spoke her real name - and reached up to run her fingers through his hair, if only because she could. “As long as you survive for it,” she teased. When his brow furrowed in confusion, she kissed the corner of his mouth and said, “There’s no telling how Keith will react when he finds out you _borrowed_ his hoverbike.”

**Author's Note:**

> Me a couple weeks ago: i'm not writing any post-season eight fic  
> Me now: *has written three (3) post-season eight fics in some way, shape, or form*
> 
> anyway, find me on the [tumblr](https://sp4c3-0ddity.tumblr.com/) if you're so inclined, and please please please tell me what you think of this fic <3


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